_Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada_

* * * * *

_Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, Inc., a National
General company. Its trade-mark, consisting of the words "Bantam
Books" and the portrayal of a bantam, is registered in the United
States Patent Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada.
Bantam Books, Inc., 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019._

* * * * *

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For my Mother and Father--

RIA AND LEO HARRISON

I

_A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However" replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."_

STEPHEN CRANE

Sweat covered Brion's body, trickling into the tight loincloth that
was the only garment he wore. The light fencing foil in his hand
felt as heavy as a bar of lead to his exhausted muscles, worn out by
a month of continual exercise. These things were of no importance.
The cut on his chest, still dripping blood, the ache of his
overstrained eyes--even the soaring arena around him with the
thousands of spectators--were trivialities not worth thinking about.
There was only one thing in his universe: the button-tipped length
of shining steel that hovered before him, engaging his own weapon.
He felt the quiver and scrape of its life, knew when it moved and
moved himself to counteract it. And when he attacked, it was always
there to beat him aside.

A sudden motion. He reacted--but his blade just met air. His instant
of panic was followed by a small sharp blow high on his chest.

"_Touch!_" A world-shaking voice bellowed the word to a million
waiting loudspeakers, and the applause of the audience echoed back
in a wave of sound.

"One minute," a voice said, and the time buzzer sounded.

Brion had carefully conditioned the reflex in himself. A minute is
not a very large measure of time and his body needed every fraction
of it. The buzzer's whirr triggered his muscles into complete
relaxation. Only his heart and lungs worked on at a strong,
measured rate. His eyes closed and he was only distantly aware of
his handlers catching him as he fell, carrying him to his bench.
While they massaged his limp body and cleansed the wound, all of his
attention was turned inward. He was in reverie, sliding along the
borders of c